


Reluctant Accord

by jewishedwardelric



Series: Royed Youtube AU [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Angry Snuggling, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Romance, Height Differences, I'm Not Ashamed, M/M, Merry Christmas, Modern AU, Mutually Unrequited, RoyEd Gift Exchange, Secret Crush, Topping from the Bottom, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, VidCon, Youtube!Au, Youtuber AU, denial of gayness, fuck you ed for growing at the end of the series, height angst, i hope it's liked enough that people would want more, i made grown up ed less than 5 foot because if i don't get to be over 5 feet at 18 neither does ed, royed, two dumb idiots fall in love, youtube au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewishedwardelric/pseuds/jewishedwardelric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Secret Santa gift for asexualedwardelric. Modern YouTube AU. Edward Elric and Roy Mustang are famous YouTubers who have been in a rivalry for two years. Just in time for Vidcon, Roy Mustang proposes a truce to end their feuding, saying it's old and stale. But is there an ulterior motive behind this truce?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I only entered the Royed gift exchange last minute on a whim, and I'm so glad because now I get to write this fic, of which I'm really proud of so far. And the deadline for the gift exchange is December 25th-January 1st so I will be posting one chapter each day until the last day. This first chapter is short, but the other chapters are considerably longer. I promise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feud's origin story.

“He’s just a little bratty kid with no real life experiences-yes, he’s been through some shit and I sympathize. But he means nothing to me. He can shit talk me on his pathetic little YouTube channel all he wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a reason people like me more. I’m experienced. I know what I’m talking about. He’s just a brat. This will be the last time I mention Edward Elric, the Fullmetal YouTuber, again. I’m not going to give him any more exposure, nor should you.”

Ed fumed. Bratty? Hmph, yeah, totally. Which is why he always talked about people with disabilities. Which is why he was always good to any fans he met. Kid? He was almost twenty-one, thank you very much. And don’t give him any of that patronizing I-sympathize-with-you bullshit, either.

Roy Mustang, the YouTuber known as the Flame YouTuber, was an insufferable bastard with as much YouTube views as Edward Elric, the Fullmetal YouTuber. How _anyone_ could stand the bastard’s smug-ass face for longer than two seconds, Ed did not know.

The video he was watching was the sixth video Mustang had made about him. It was titled. NO MORE ELRIC. It was only about two-and-a-half minutes long and was said to be Mustang’s final video on their ongoing YouTube feud, but they both knew it wasn’t over. It was never over.

Their feud began two years ago when they tried to get together for a collaboration video, figuring it would help their rising popularity. They were both gaining views and subscribers like no other at the exact same time, so why the hell not?

It…didn’t go as planned. Mustang immediately made a comment about Ed’s height, which instantly got Mustang on Ed’s hit list. That sparked an argument that got heated real fast. Like, a literal shouting match. It only got worse when they actually got around to filming the video. They fought like cats and dogs over lighting, camera angles, what they were saying. It was an overall disaster, so much so that they scrapped the whole thing, went their separate ways, and went on to make videos about the situation. Ed’s video was a creatively-titled ROY MUSTANG SUCKS. It was just an angry rant about how smug Mustang was. And he _was._ He was a know-it-all.

Mustang’s side was just a condescending video entitled WHAT I LEARNED FROM ED ELRIC. In it, Mustang asserted that Ed was difficult to work with, that he was a spoiled brat, that his temper was as short as his height (that enraged Ed).

And thus…a legendary YouTube feud was born.

 

To their respective fans, the feud was fairly entertaining. They enjoyed fighting amongst themselves on who was right. Of course, to Ed’s complete horror, a lot of them also enjoyed shipping them together.

To the YouTubers themselves, this feud was just tiring at this point. They had other material to cover, yet their fans constantly tweeted them about the other.

It was time to move on.

 

                                                                                                ~

“Ed, will you be coming to Vidcon this year?” his childhood friend and occasional YouTube collaborator, Winry Rockbell, asked.

“Of course. I can’t let my fans down,” Ed answered. He was busy editing his latest video. “When is it again?”

“Uh, June 23rd-25th,” Winry answered.

“Who else will be there?” Ed asked. He hoped Mustang would take his smug ass elsewhere.

“Tyler Oakley, Shane Dawson, Pewdiepie…and Roy Mustang,” Winry said, looking away as she announced the last name.

 _Dammit._ “Mustang will be there?” he asked, trying to make it seem like it didn’t bother him.

“Yes, and please don’t start anything with him, Edward. You don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your fans, or his.”

“I won’t. Who do you take me for, anyway?” He scowled at his childhood best friend.

“Someone with a hot temper and poor impulse control,” Winry deadpanned.

Ed rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I won’t start shit, Winry. I _promise._ ”

Winry smiled. “Good boy. Oh, what video are you working on this week?”

Ed smiled. “Another collab with Al.  We’re doing another dare video to celebrate 1.5 million subscribers.”

“Cool. Link it to me, okay?” she asked before leaving.

 

                                                                                                ~

Roy Mustang was only mildly annoyed when he heard that the Fullmetal, Edward Elric, would be at Vidcon this year. Any real anger or any kind of feeling for the brat had been gone for a while. Roy didn’t care about the kid anymore. The feud had long gotten tired and until recently, he only kept it up because it got him views on his channel.

He was done. Elric mattered nothing. They would go their separate ways. Well, if the damned short-tempered brat could control himself so as to not embarrass himself at the convention.

That is…if the pipsqueak didn’t start shit. Considering his temper, that wasn’t _completely_ unlikely. Though, to the kid’s credit, he _was_ smart, and would know not to make a scene at Vidcon and risk getting banned.

Roy had no worries. The event would go off without a hitch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a feud ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer this time.

**Anaheim, California**

Ed had arrived early to Anaheim Hilton early to set up. He had planned a series of vlogs for his fans. When he wasn’t doing his own interviews, or attending panels, he’d be interviewing other, smaller YouTubers, helping them to get more subscribers.

After setting up, he plugged up and turned on his laptop to check his twitter.

**_fullmetalfreak19: @fullmetaledward can’t wait 2 c u at #Vidcon2016!_ **

**_iluvfullmetal:  @fullmetaledward @mr_armor can’t wait to see the Elric bros at #vidcon._ ** **_J_ **

**_officialfullmetalsource: @fullmetaledward & @mr_armor have arrived in Anaheim already. Anyone else ready to meet them?_ **

Ed was vaguely weirded out that one of his fan twitters (probably not the only one) knew he and his brother were in California already.

**_fullflamemetal: @fullmetaledward & @roy_mustang are both attending #Vidcon this year…Wonder of they’ll finally confess their love? ;) _ **

Ed was…pretty disturbed that many of his and Mustang’s fans believed that he and Mustang were secretly in love but were hiding it in internet feud videos. Why they thought Ed would ever look at Mustang with anything other than annoyance and occasionally anger was beyond Ed, but he long since made peace with the fact that the “Flamemetal” ship had been sailing since their initial feud videos.

“Brother, you ready to go to dinner?” his younger brother, Alphonse, asked, walking in their hotel room.

“Yeah, yeah, just let me get dressed,” Ed said, shutting his laptop.

“Alright.  I will be in the lobby waiting. Don’t take too long.”

“’Kay.”

Ed got dressed and pulled his long golden hair into his usual braid and then went to meet Al.

                                                                                                ~

They had gone to The Cheesecake Factory. When they were waiting, they had come across some fans and Al and Ed took photos and signed autographs.

“Thank you!” one of the fans squealed, beaming. “This means so much to me!”

“No, thank _you._ Your support means just as much to me!” Ed answered, using the generic line he frequently used when talking to fans. Not that he didn’t mean it; he would always be grateful to his fans. They got him where he was today, and he always made sure to thank them every time he hit a milestone. Those were just the words he found himself saying often when meeting fans.

As the fans were seated, Ed heard one of them shout, “Oh my god! Roy Mustang’s here too!” followed by the shrieks of her friends.

Ed groaned. “Great. _He’s_ here, too?” he complained.

“The Cheesecake Factory is pretty popular,” Al pointed out as they were being seated at a booth. “You’re not planning on starting something, are you, brother? They won’t allow us at Vidcon again next year if you make a scene…”

“Why does everyone think I’ll start something with him?” Ed grumbled, scowling at the menu he was looking at.

“You’ve never been good at holding back your temper, brother,” Al pointed out. “You flip out when someone says ‘short’ or ‘little,’ even outside of the context of your height.”

The 4’11” blond clenched his fists and resisted the urge to yell at his brother. “They _know_ I hate having my height referenced to; they’re using those words _deliberately_ to piss me off.”

Al rolled his eyes. “You’re imagining things, Ed.”

“I’m not, but whatever. Don’t worry. If Mustang can keep his damn mouth shut, so can I,” Ed said stubbornly.

“Okay,” Al said wearily.

                                                                                                ~

Al had gone to the bathroom and Ed was currently eating a delicious cheesecake when Mustang strolled up to their table.

“Fullmetal,” Mustang drawled.

Ed swallowed, looked up at his rival, and scowled.

“What do ya want, Mustang?” he snapped.

“I want a truce,” Mustang said earnestly, taking Ed by surprise. “This feud is getting old and petty now. Can’t we just ignore each other and go our separate ways?”

“A truce?” Ed repeated, skeptic. “What for?”

Mustang growled impatiently. “I told you, kid. Don’t you listen? The feud is tired and dead. We can’t keep beating a dead horse. My fans have been commenting saying how sick they are of it, and I suspect yours have been too.”

He was right. A number of his fans have spoken to him about laying the rivalry to rest. “Whatever. Just keep out of my way, got it?” Ed said.

“Right,” Mustang said. “Well…you have a good time at Vidcon,” he said awkwardly. Ed stared.

“Sure,” Ed said. “You too, I guess.”

Mustang awkwardly left just as Al returned to the table.

“Brother…,” Al began.

“ _No,_ I didn’t start anything. _He_ came over here and asked for a truce,” Ed insisted.

“A truce?” Al repeated.

“Yeah. Said the feud was old and tired. Couldn’t agree more.”

                                                                                                ~

**June 25 th, 2016**

**6:00 AM**

Ed was decidedly _not_ a morning person. He was always very crotchety when he had to get up earlier than noon. But he had a duty to his fans that he couldn’t shirk for all the sleep in the world.

That duty being a morning interview by Maes Hughes.

Maes Hughes was a friend of Mustang, but weirdly enough, sort of a friend to Ed and Al. He refused to take part in the Mustang vs.  Elric feud, saying that it was stupid.

“You’d be the best of friends if you got over your petty feud,” Hughes has said on a number of occasions.  “I bet you’d find plenty of common ground if you’d both stop being so stubborn.”

That idea was always shot down by the both of them.

Maes’s videos were mostly vlogs about his family, his wife Gracia and his two-year-old daughter Elicia. He wasn’t much of a YouTuber like Ed and Mustang were, but he updated semi-regularly.

“Hughes,” Ed greeted when he met the man in the hotel lobby that morning.

“Edward, hey,” Maes said, chipper as ever. “Good morning. How have you been?”

“Morning. Been fine,” Ed answered.

“Ready to get started?” Maes asked, indicated to the camera he had set up.

“Ready when you are,” Ed replied, sitting in the adjacent seat.

Hughes turned the camera on and started speaking.

_It’s the first day of Vidcon 2016. I, Maes Hughes, am here with the Fullmetal himself, Edward Elric, for an exclusive interview. Edward, glad to have you here on this fine morning._

**_Glad to be here, Hughes._ **

_Now, Ed, sources say that your rival, the Flame YouTuber, Roy Mustang, will also be attending this Vidcon. Any thoughts on that?_

**_Not really, believe it or not. Both of us think it’s time to lay the feud to rest. It’s gettin’ old, ya know?_ **

_I see. Does this mean a chance for friendship in the future?_

Ed repressed a scowl. It would be a cold day in hell the day he and Mustang became friends-or even friendly acquaintances. Still, in light of the truce, he didn’t want to show hostility.

**_Nah, I don’t think so, Hughes. We have nothing in common. I wish him all the best on his future projects, though, and I’m sure he wishes the best on mine._ **

_Alright. Onto another topic. Your future projects…do you have any?_

**_Uh yeah, actually, I do. But I want to keep them under wraps for now._ **

_Fair enough. Say, Ed, any lucky guy or lady in your life?_

Maes gave Ed a knowing look. Ed just responded with a chuckle.

**_No, there’s sadly no one special in my life, other than my family. And of course, my fans, who are the reason I am here today. So thank you, you guys, for all that you do for me._ **

The rest of the interview went by, and when it was done, Ed stood up and got thanked by Maes and then went to find Al.

                                                                                                ~

“Brother, the YouTubers panel will be starting soon,” Al said.

They took their seats at the panel table where their places were indicated with a placard of their names.

It wasn’t long before other YouTubers started walking up on the stage and taking their seat, and panel attendants started getting seated in the room.

Ed groaned when Roy fucking Mustang sat on the other side of him. “Great. They had to place me next to _him._ ”

Mustang rolled his stupid smug eyes. “You said we had a truce, remember?” Mustang said, careful not to let the eager fans hear him. “And you shouldn’t start shit in front of our fans.  It’s highly unprofessional,” Mustang added.

“It doesn’t matter,” Al said, trying to diffuse tension. “They did it to capitalize on the feud. That’s all.”

“I know,” Ed grumbled. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Damn childish brat,” Mustang mumbled.

“Hey! What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Ed snapped, a little too loudly, and drawing the attention of the growing audience.

“Brother, _please,_ ” Al scolded.

Ed grumbled, but settled down.

                                                                                                ~

It was thirty to forty-five minutes before all the YouTubers had arrived and the seats were full.

“Welcome, everyone, to Vidcon 2016!” the panel announcer said cheerfully. He waited for the loud applause and cheers to die down before continuing. “I’m sure you’re all excited to talk with your favorite YouTubers-well, they are excited to chat with _you!_ Ask your favorite YouTubers questions. This panel will last an hour and a half, and then there will be a meet-and-greet for three hours right after.”

Yet more roaring applause. Then the questions began.

Most of the questions were geared toward the bigger YouTubers, like Pewdiepie or Markiplier, but Ed, Al, and Mustang got a fair amount of questions.

“Ed, Roy, is it true that you’ve agreed to have a truce?” a fan asked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Mustang said, nodding. “The reason being that you know, the feud is tired. We’ve been going at it for, what? Three years now? It’s pathetic really. And incredibly petty. We’re both past this stupid feud. We have so much more material for our respective channels than some childish feud. We want to focus on that, and have you guys focus on that.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda stupid,” Ed said. “We don’t hate each other. Hell, we mean nothing to each other. When those initial rant videos were uploaded, neither of us could foresee how long this thing went on. And we’re pretty much indifferent to each other by now. Sooo…”

It was kind of a lie. He did feel something for Mustang: pure, unadulterated hate.

“So does this mean you won’t do collab videos or be friends?” another fan asked.

 _Hell no,_ Ed thought.

“It’s not very likely,” Mustang said. “We’ll be cordial and civil when we see each other, but other than that, we won’t have any further contact with each other.”

“What are your thoughts on the Flamemetal ship?” one fan, wearing a Flamemetal 4eva shirt, said.

Ed and Mustang both tried and failed to suppress a groan but managed to make it go unnoticed by the audience. They were both perfectly happy to pretend that the ship wasn’t a thing, but some of the fans (not all) weren’t content to keep it amongst themselves.

“Look, to address this once and for all,” Mustang began, “I am perfectly heterosexual. I don’t go for guys. No offense to anyone who is gay, it’s just not what I am.”

Weirdly enough, Mustang’s answer didn’t sound all that convincing.

“Yeah, I’m totally straight as well,” Ed agreed. “I like chicks, okay?”

Also weirdly enough, neither did Ed’s answer.

                                                                                                ~

The meet-and-greet took forever. Though Ed adored his fans and appreciated all they did for him and loved to speak to them, it was exhausting. Ed’s writing arm was sore as hell and he wanted to scarf down some food.

“Where do you want to get lunch, brother?” Al asked.

“Uh, we can just get McDonald’s.  I think I have my own panel later on,” Ed said.

“Oh yeah. The personal panel.”

They were approached by a group of fangirls wearing Flamemetal shirts. Ed recognized one as the girl who asked the question about the ship.

“Hey,” Ed said tentatively. “Are you wanting a picture and an autograph?”

“No,” one girl, the one with purple hair, said, shaking her head. “We want to talk about your response to the Flamemetal question. You know, at the panel earlier?”

“Yeah,” Ed replied, suddenly weary.

“Did you mean it?” a girl with pink hair asked.

“Well, yeah,” Ed said, looking surprised. “Why wouldn’t I? I like girls.”

“You can like girls and guys, too,” the girl who asked the question at the panel pointed out. “Bisexuality is a thing.”

“Yeah, well…,” Ed said, trailing off for a moment. “That ain’t me. Why are you so concerned with this?”

“We just don’t think you sounded so convincing earlier,” Purple Hair said.

Seriously? They noticed, too?

“Hey, girls, we gotta get going to eat before the personal panel later,” Al interceding.

“Alright,” the fanclub said hesitantly.

The Elric brothers left for Mickey D’s.

                                                                                ~

“I’m going to interview smaller YouTubers, brother,” Al said on their way back to the convention center after lunch.

“Alright. Have fun,” Ed replied.

Ed wasn’t paying attention and soon was swarmed in a sea of enthusiastic fans.

“W-what’s goin’ on?” he asked nervously.

He ended up running away from the chasing fans until he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and pull him into a closet.

The door closed behind them both and Ed began to panic before a hand clamped down over his mouth firmly. It was dark, and Ed couldn’t see who he was trapped with.

Then, a familiar deep voice said, “Trust me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a fic that was supposed to be a lighthearted YouTube au becomes decidedly less lighthearted. All due to an idea I had while on a twelve hour drive back home from New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for being late.

“Trust me,” Roy Mustang said when he pulled Edward Elric into the closet with him.

He immediately turned on the light, to find the small blond glaring at him angrily.

“What the hell, Mustang?” Edward snapped.

“You looked like you needed some help out there,” Roy explained sheepishly.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing in a closet?!” Ed demanded.

“So I could pull you in, Fullmetal,” Roy replied, shrugging.

“Yeah well, thanks for that, I guess.” Edward turned to leave the closet before being stopped by Roy.

“Wait, Fullmetal…Edward. They might not be gone yet.”

Edward grumbled and sat down. “When did we become bigger than the fucking Beatles that we have to hide in a damn broom closet from fans?”

“Dunno. What _were_ they chasing you for, anyway?” Roy asked curiously.

Edward glared at him. “How the hell should I know? Do I _look_ like a rabid fangirl?” Edward snapped.

“No, no, it’s just that at least a few of them were wearing those fan-made Flamemetal t-shirts,” Roy remarked.

Edward scowled further. “And? So a few obsessive shippers were chasing me. Is there a point you’re trying to make? Because I don’t see it.”

“Did you have a run-in with their fanclub earlier? Hughes said you did.”

“A run-in? You’re acting like we got into some kind of altercation. They just came up to me and asked me about my answer to the Flamemetal question from earlier.”

“Is that so?” Roy said, not quite believing the fellow YouTuber.

Like how Edward didn’t believe in Roy’s straightness, so did Roy doubt the blond’s heterosexuality.

“Well, yeah,” Ed said. “Whaddya think they wanted?”

“Maybe for you to denounce your hetero status and tell them and fellow yaoi fangirls how you’re madly in love with me?”

Edward scoffed. “Yeah, and pigs fly.”

Roy chuckled. “I think they’re gone now,” he said.

“Alright,” Ed said, getting up slowly. Somehow his movements seemed hesitant and rather reluctant. Roy let that thought pass quickly.

But when he tried to open the door, it didn’t budge.

“What the hell…?” Ed wondered.

“What? Is the door stuck?” Roy demanded.

“Apparently,” Ed said, before attempting to open it and ending up breaking the doorknob off. “Are you shitting me?”

“What?” Roy asked.

“We are fucking stuck,” Ed stated. “We are stuck in here together and can’t get out.”

“What the actual hell?” Roy shouted.

Edward glared. “Don’t yell.  It won’t solve anything.” He sighed. “I’ll just call Al and have him get someone to break us out.”

Roy watched the blond whip out his iPhone and dial a number. He noticed Ed growing more and more frustrated.

After a minute, Ed angrily put his phone back in his pocket. “Damn it. He won’t pick up.”

“Well, try again,” Roy said impatiently.

So Ed did, huffing. When it didn’t pick up (“What the fuck are you doing that you can’t be _fucked_ to pick up the goddamn phone?!”), he left a voicemail.

“Hey, Al, I got stuck in a broom closet with Roy Fucking Mustang. Long story, don’t bother asking. The doorknob fell off and we can’t get out. Please come have someone get us out. I might be late for the personal panel, but I’ll offer an apology. See ya soon, Ed.”

Then Ed sat back down where he was before.“I’m sure Al’ll get back to me soon and come get us. It’s only a matter of time,” Ed said.

Roy wasn’t sure if Ed was reassuring him or himself.

“Okay,” Roy said. “So. Roy Fucking Mustang, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ed chuckled. “My nickname for you when I have to speak about you to Al or Winry.”

“Do you hate me that much?” Roy asked.

“You _are_ an arrogant, smug bastard,” Ed pointed out.

It was Roy’s turn to laugh. “I suppose that’s true,” he acknowledged, before turning serious. “But really, how _do_ you feel? I mean, you can be a bratty kid with no handle on your temper, but you’re okay.”

Ed sighed. “I dunno. I guess I’m indifferent? But you’re a smug bastard, and you’re insufferable. Plus, you’re one of those skirt-chasers.  A miniskirt chaser. “

“The rumors of my womanizing have been greatly exaggerated,” Roy said, though he had to admit Ed’s assessment of him was fairly accurate.

Ed laughed. “Yeah, I’m _sure._ ”

They stayed silent for a while, Ed looking at some random spot. Roy took the opportunity to look at the younger YouTuber.

His long, golden hair was in his signature braid, but after a long day, it was starting to look like it would fall out soon if it wasn’t adjusted. Roy secretly hoped it would. He wanted to see what Edward’s hair would look like, framing his face like a shiny gold curtain.

“What are you starin’ at?” Ed asked suspiciously. Roy looked away.

“Nothing,” Roy said, acutely aware of how unconvincing he sounded and of how he said it too quickly.

“You seeing anyone, Mustang?” Ed asked.

“No. Why, you interested?” Roy responded, smirking.

Edward’s face went beet red in an instant. “Hell no! I was just wondering, that’s all.”

Roy laughed. “Sure, Fullmetal. But no, I’m currently single. It’s hard to find someone when you’re very closeted.”

Ed looked confused for a moment before the meaning of Roy’s words dawned on him. “Closeted? So, you really _are_ gay?” he asked.

Roy looked down. “You can be closeted for other things, like being bisexual or transgender, but yeah, I’m gay,” Roy confessed, feeling as if he were admitting to murder.

“I don’t know why you look so ashamed of it,” Edward chastised. “I don’t think less of you because you’re gay-I think less of you because you’re a bastard.”

Roy laughed. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m ready to come out to the public. I don’t know how everyone will take it, and I don’t want any bad repercussions.”

“Who else knows?” Ed wondered.

“Only Maes Hughes and Riza Hawkeye,” Roy said. “Both of them actually knew before me I only realized it recently.”

“We both know what our fangirls will think,” Ed pointed out, making Roy chuckle again.

“No, but I don’t want to make waves or whatever. It’s no one’s damn business anyway.”

“I understand.” Ed’s expression was softer. “Y’know, you did seem unconvincing when you said you were straight.”

“Was I that obvious?” Roy asked, slightly horrified.

“Yup,” Edward confirmed.

“Christ,” Roy groaned. “I’m sure the fans will have picked up on that as well.”

“Yeah,” Ed said cheerfully. “’Course, they will say we’re gay together no matter what, regardless of your actual sexuality and how well you hide it.”

“That’s true.” Roy nodded.

They talked for a bit while waiting for someone to get them out and Roy enjoyed it so much he was secretly sad when a janitor finally got the door open.

“Thanks, Al,” Edward was saying to his older (and taller) brother as they left the closet. “How late am I to the panel?”

Roy wasn’t listening, because a group of girls caught his eye.  A familiar group of girls. Wearing Flamemetal shirts. And holding cameras.

“Shit,” Roy said, realizing he was seen coming out of the closet with Edward Elric.

                                                                               

~

**Risembool**

It was trending on twitter, going viral on the internet, following him wherever he went.

 

**Roy Mustang and Edward Elric seen coming out of a closet together, looking mildly disheveled.**

 

Edward’s twitter was spammed with comments, as was his YouTube comments section of his videos, and his tumblr was sent even more asks than usual. Everyone thought he and Mustang-his former rival-were coming out of the closet after fucking. Everyone had thought they fucked. Even Winry and Al teased him about what he was doing in the closet with Roy fucking Mustang.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” Ed had snapped. “I wasn’t fucking him, I swear to fucking God!” Which meant a lot coming from him, an avowed atheist.

“Then what were you doing in there with him, Ed?” Winry asked, smirking.

“I was being chased by fans and then he pulled me in there!”

“What was _he_ doing in there?”

“He said he wanted to help me!” Ed insisted. He also didn’t want to out Mustang. If Mustang wanted people to know he was gay, he’d say so himself. It wasn’t Ed’s place to out him.

They let the matter drop. They all knew Edward was straight.

The fans, however, did not and would not let it go. Ed was afraid he’d have to make a short video about the incident in question.

He did post about it on twitter some, stating that nothing inappropriate happened and that they got stuck in there after trying to hide from overenthusiastic fans. They were both straight and not at all interested in one another, and that’s that.

The fans-Flamemetal ones especially-disregarded that statement in favor of their reality.

Though, if there were one good thing that arose from the whole ordeal, it was their newfound-friendship? Acquaintance? Ed didn’t know what to call it, but they talked a lot and followed each other on social media (this fueled the Flamemetal fire). They weren’t exactly close, but they had a new respect for each other that they hadn’t had before.

The rest of Vidcon had gone by without a hitch. Aside from the closet incident, Edward did enjoy Vidcon and hoped to be invited back the next year.

But Ed was glad to be back in Risembool, hanging with Winry, Pinako, and Al.

“So it was like three hours at least and my writing arm hurt like hell afterward, but it was worth it to see the looks on my fans’ faces,” Ed was saying, talking about the meet-and-greets and signing things for his fans.

They were at the Rockbell’s place having dinner (stew). Everything was normal for about two hours when a knock came at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Ed said, to free himself from the debate over whether or not he should drink his milk.

When he opened the door, his face fell.

There was his estranged father, Van Hohenheim.

“Edward,” his father said, smiling down at his son. “How are you?”

“Is that Dad?”  Al shouted from the dining room.

“Father,” Ed said curtly, letting his father in the house. “Long time, no see.”

Van Hohenheim grimaced as he entered the house. Ed closed the door behind him.

“You’re still angry, I see,” Van Hohenheim said.

“No shit,” Ed snapped. “You abandon us and Mom and you didn’t even come to her fucking funeral five years ago. So yeah, you’re goddamn right I’m pissed off.”

“Ed? What is it?” Winry asked, concerned, walking in. Her eyes widened at the sight of Van Hohenheim.

“Oh,” she said, realization dawning in her eyes. “ _Oh._ I-I’ll let you be.” She quickly left the room, presumably to tell Al and Pinako to leave the two of them alone.

“Look, Edward, I did what I thought I had to at the time. I never wanted to hurt you,” Van Hohenheim tried to explain.

“Tried what you had to? What, abandon your wife and kids, who loved you with all their heart? Cause us pain, make us think it was all our fault? Is _that_ what you had to do?”

Van Hohenheim winced, but didn’t try to defend himself.

“Yeah, Al blamed himself for your abandonment. And so did I.”

Van Hohenheim looked fairly ashamed.

“And you didn’t come to Mom’s funeral,” Ed stated.

“Yes,” Van Hohenheim acknowledged. “And for that I kick myself every day. I regret hurting you children and your mother. I wish I was at least at her funeral. I miss her every day, you know. And I think about her every day. You two, as well. I don’t know how to explain why I left. I just promise it wasn’t worth hurting you over it.”

“Why are you even here?” Ed asked suspiciously. “You think you can waltz in here and in one day make up for years of abandonment? Because you can’t.”

“I know,” Van Hohenheim said, surprising Ed a bit. “I would love your forgiveness, but I know I don’t deserve it, and I won’t ask for it. And I know I have a lot to make up for. But I do ask that you give me a chance. In time I will explain myself.”

And that was how Van Hohenheim came to stay with the Elrics.

                                                                                                ~

Al, being Al, was more open to forgiving his father for leaving them and not coming to their mother’s funeral.  Ed, being Ed, wasn’t as forgiving.

Any interaction between Edward and Van Hohenheim ended up as a one-sided fight. One-sided because Ed would yell and Van Hohenheim would patiently listen.

One day, though, Van Hohenheim and Ed set out to Trisha Elric’s grave.

                                                                **Trisha Elric**

**1976-2010**

**Beloved wife and mother**

“I loved her so much,” Van Hohenheim said, looking at her grave. “I only left because I had to. Even at twenty you’re still too young to understand, Edward…I did it because I had no other option. You’ll one day realize you had to do things that you didn’t want to because you had no other option. It’s when you’ve literally exhausted all your other options and are left with the option you dreaded most. Don’t think I never thought of you all every day I was gone. This is not what I wanted for you all.

“I can’t say the same for the funeral. I can’t make excuses for that. When I heard the news that Trisha was killed in a car crash and that you lost an arm and a leg…I was far too weak to come visit. I was too selfish. I thought of my pain before I thought of the pain of my sons, what they were going through. You, especially, having been in that crash and survived but at the cost of your two limbs. I didn’t think, didn’t realize that I wasn’t the only one grieving. You have every right to hate me for that.

“But please don’t ever doubt my love for you boys and your mother. I love you all more than words can say. If I had to go back, I would have made completely different choices. I would have come back sooner and stayed. And I’m proud of the career you’ve made as YouTubers.”

Ed was silent. He couldn’t process his father’s words. He didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know what to _feel._ He was still mad as hell, yes, but did he still hate his father? He didn’t know. Maybe not with as visceral a hatred as before, but maybe some was still there? Ed was confused.

“I’m not trying to get you to change your mind about me, Edward,” Van Hohenheim continued. “Feel free to hate me as long as you live, though it may pain me. I deserve it. But I never wanted to hurt you all. Maybe one day you’ll understand why I left.”

                                                                                                ~

Edward did cool towards his father, though there was still a shit-ton of work to be done.

He did get a distraction one day when Roy Mustang called out of the blue about getting drinks.

Edward did not hesitate to accept


	4. Chapter 4

“The fuck you want, bastard?” Ed growled as he approached Roy at the seedy little Risembool bar. It was a miracle he managed to get in, seeing as how he wasn’t twenty-one yet and even if he  _ was,  _ he wouldn’t be believed given his unfortunate stature. 

 

“To talk,” Roy said. “You know, person-to-person, now that we’re not feuding. And definitely not as YouTubers.”

 

“I can’t believe they let me in here; I’m not even twenty-one yet,” Ed remarked, sitting on a bar stool beside Roy’s.

 

“Add that to the fact that you’re....,” Roy said, but trailed off when he saw Ed’s pointed glare. “...youthful looking,” he finished lamely. “Anyway, you’ll be twenty-one this year, right?”

 

“Yeah, October 11th,” Ed confirmed. 

 

“Which is only, what? Three months from now? You’re basically twenty-one already.”

 

“Hm.  So what’re you having, bastard?” Ed demanded.

 

“Call me uncreative, but I’ll usually just have a whiskey. And you?” Roy replied.

 

“I dunno. I shouldn’t push my luck...oh, what the hell. I’ll have a whiskey, too.”

 

Roy turned to the bartender. “Two whiskeys, please. They’re on me,” Roy said.

 

“I need to see IDs. Especially for the runt,” the bartender grunted, gesturing toward Ed.

 

Ed growled, his face growing red and hot. “WHO YOU CALLIN’ SHORTER THAN-”

 

Roy abruptly slapped a hand over Ed’s mouth firmly. “Sorry. My friend here hates having his size referred to. I have both of our IDs. Ed loses things super easily sometimes.”

 

Ed scowled but kept quiet.

 

Roy took out two IDs and handed them to the bartender.

 

“Roy Mustang, age 29. Edward Elric, 21. Hm. Ok. The shrimp’s older than he appears, huh?”

 

Roy sighed as he struggled to reign in a pissed-off Edward Elric. If the bartender kept up with the “short” remarks, it’d be a long night.

 

“Hey, I’m only teasin’ ya,” the bartender chuckled. “Two whiskeys comin’ right up.”

 

“It’d be cool if you stopped making an ass of yourself every time someone alludes to your height, Ed,” Roy said, frowning slightly.

 

“Yeah, well, it’d be cool if everyone would stop callin’ me an ultra-hyper midget,” Ed snapped.

 

“No one’s  _ saying _ that, kid. Jesus.” Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean, but you  _ are  _ short. You know that, right? You’re twenty-one and you’re not even five feet. That’s  _ tiny. _ ”

 

“Fuck. You,” Ed growled as he clenched his fists. “I didn’t come here to be insulted by the likes of you, Mustang. Why are you in Risembool, anyway?”

 

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Roy lied. They grabbed their drinks that the bartender passed over.

 

Ed snorted and rolled his eyes. “No, really. Why are you here?”

 

“Saw you bitch on Twitter about your dad. Figured you needed company,” Roy explained.

 

“That’s nice of you,” Ed muttered begrudgingly.

 

“So...would you like to talk about it?” Roy asked hesitantly, taking a swig of his whiskey.

 

Ed took a drink of his, wincing at the taste. “Fuck, this shit sucks. No, I don’t want to fuckin’ talk about it. Not right now, at least. Let me get good and drunk first.”

 

“It’s an acquired taste,” Roy said, nodding toward the whiskey. “And this is a seedy little small town bar. It’s not exactly Cognac.”

 

“So it seems,” Ed agreed. He drank some more, in spite of himself. “So Van Hohenheim, my father-Mother never took his name when they married-left us sixteen years go…”

* * *

 

**_12 August 2000_ **

 

_ “Brother...Brother,” a voice in the dark whispers to Ed, stirring him from his sleep. _

 

_ “Al...whaddaya want?” five-year-old Ed whispers harshly, voice thick with sleepiness. _

 

_ “I needa go pee,” four-year-old whispers in return. _

 

_ Ed sits up. “Really? Right  _ now,  _ Al? I’m sleepy…” _

 

_ Al sits up as well. “I really hafta go, Ed,” Al whines quietly. _

 

_ Ed sighs. He had been having a good dream, too. “Okay. C’mon, Al.” _

 

_ They climb out of their extra-large shared bed and sneak out their room, quiet so as to not wake their parents. _

 

_ When they leave the bathroom a little while later, they hear noises at the door. _

 

_ “Please, come back,” a feminine voice says. Their mom, Trisha Elric. _

 

_ “I will,” a male voice simply says. Van Hohenheim. Their father. _

 

_ The boys quietly tiptoe in the hallway to get a better look. The front door was open, and Van Hohenheim is in the threshold. Trisha is next to the door. She smiles sadly, a few tears streaming down her face. _

 

_ “Don’t you want to say goodbye to the boys first, before you leave?” Trisha asks. _

 

_ “I shouldn’t,” Van Hohenheim says stoically.  _

 

_ Just then, Al coughs. The parents turn to their sons. _

 

_ “Ed, Al, what are you doing up?” Trisha asks, rushing to their side. _

 

_ “Al hadda go potty,” Ed says. _

 

_ Trisha smiles. “And you took him? What a wonderful big brother!” _

 

_ “Where’s Daddy goin’?” Al asks, looking slightly upset. _

 

_ Trisha’s smile slips a bit. “He’s got some business to attend to. He’ll be back,” she reassures them. _

 

_ “When?” Ed demands. He doesn’t like that his father was leaving them. It makes him mad. _

 

_ Trisha frowns. “Someday. I don’t know when, but he will be back. I promise.” _

* * *

 

**_December 2001_ **

 

_ Christmas is nearing, and Van Hohenheim hasn’t returned yet. Ed is six and Al is five. _

 

_ “Where’s he gone, Mama?” Ed asks grumpily. “When’s he gonna get back? He’s been gone forever…” _

 

_ “Now now, Ed.  Be patient. He’ll be back when he’s done with what he’s doing,” Trisha reassures her eldest son. _

 

_ “What’s he doin’?” Ed demands, petulant. _

 

_ “Something important, I assure you. Your father wouldn’t leave us if he didn’t have to. Now, let’s focus on something more cheerful, like Christmas perhaps.” _

* * *

 

**_Summer 2005-Ed, ten; Al, nine_ **

 

_ They have gotten used to their father’s leaving, though Ed is still angry and refuses to speak of his father. He’s long past asking when Van Hohenheim would be back, where he is, or what he’s doing.  It no longer matters. At this point, Ed feels abandoned. Al, for his part, blames himself. _

 

_ “I’m a bad child, aren’t I? That’s why Dad left…,” Al says one day, to his mother’s shock. _

 

_ “No, Alphonse. God no. He left because he had to. None of you are at fault for what happened.” _

 

_ But there’s resentment, sadness, and guilt among the Elric family when Van Hohenheim is mentioned. _

* * *

 

**_Summer 2010-Ed, fifteen; Al, fourteen_ **

 

_ It is a weirdly great day. The sun is shining; the weather is a mixture of both warm but with a nice breeze. Trisha and her two teen sons are going on a holiday. Van Hohenheim hasn’t been back, but he’s the furthest thing on their minds today.  _

 

_ “Are you excited, Ed? Al? For Disney World?” Trisha asks, beaming. _

 

_ Ed mumbles something. Al nods excitedly. They are going to Disney World in Orlando, Florida, having recently won an all-expenses paid trip. _

 

_ “Well, we’re all packed and loaded up. Let’s go!” _

 

_ The Elric family get in Trisha’s minivan. _

 

_ The trip is long and rain pours down, making it hard for Trisha to see the road. On top of that, alongside the Elrics is driving an obviously inebriated driver. It’s a perfect storm, a recipe for disaster. _

 

_ One minute everyone is content; Al is chattering happily with his mother and Ed is trying (and failing) to fall asleep. The next… _

 

**_CRASH!_ **

 

_ Everything goes black… _

 

_ The next thing Ed is aware of is the sharp pain in his body. And blood. So, so much blood. _

 

_ Vaguely, he can make out Al’s unconscious body lying on the bloody pavement, next to their mother’s. _

 

_ That’s when he loses consciousness.  _

 

_ When he comes to, he notices he’s in a brightly lit room. _

 

_ “Where-where am I?” he asks weakly, hoping someone could tell him. _

 

_ “Hello, Edward. I’m Doctor Marcoh,” a male voice says. Ed looks toward the voice and notices an older-looking doctor. He’s in a hospital, he realizes. _

 

_ “Why am I here? Where’s Mom? Where’s Al?” he asks, panicking a bit. _

 

_ Dr.  Marcoh smiles sympathetically. “You’ve been in a bad accident, Edward. You’ve lost an arm and a leg.” _

 

_ Ed realizes he can’t feel his right arm and left leg. _

 

_ “Your brother Alphonse, well, he’s in intensive care unit with your mother,” Marcoh explains, frowning sadly. “Luckily, he seems to be improving every day.” _

 

_ “Every day?” Ed asks. “How long have we been in here?” _

 

_ “Three weeks,” Marcoh says. “Unfortunately, your mother isn’t doing as well as Alphonse. We’re trying to save her, but…” His voice trails off. _

 

_ Ed’s heart sinks. “What happened that day?” _

 

_ “It was raining pretty hard, as you remember, and this drunk driver swerved out of control and hit your van. The driver was killed instantly. Your mother and brother were knocked unconscious. You seemed to be conscious for a moment. Your right arm and left leg were torn off in the crash.” _

 

_ “Are Mom and Al conscious now?” Ed asks. _

 

_ “Your brother is. Trisha, however, is still comatose,” Marcoh explains. _

 

_ “Can I see him?” Ed requests.  _

 

_ Marcoh sighs. “Okay. Fine.” He calls for the nurse, and a young, pretty blonde nurse-her name tag says “Clara”-comes in with a wheelchair. _

 

_ Nurse Clara gently lifts Ed out of his hospital bed and sits him in the hospital bed, wheeling him out of the room and into the ICU. _

 

_ Al looks beat up, bruises and cuts littering his face and body. _

 

_ “Ed!” Al says hoarsely. “You’re alive!” _

_ Ed smiles weakly. “Yeah, Al. I’m alive. Missing some limbs, though,” he says, indicating his missing arm and leg. _

 

_ Al frowns.  “I’m sorry, brother.” _

 

_ “Why? It’s not your fault. Besides, you’re in ICU. You’re clearly worse off.” _

 

_ Al smiles, then frowns again. “Is Mom awake yet?” he asks. “Last time I asked, Dr. Marcoh told me she was comatose.” _

 

_ “He told me that, too, when I woke up just a while ago,” Ed answers. “I hope she makes it out okay.” _

 

_ “Me too.” _

 

_ They sit in silence for a bit before Nurse Clara comes and tells them they need rest. _

 

_ “You will be held here for at least a week,” Marcoh says. “We need to make sure you’re okay, and of course, find you prosthetics.” _

 

_ Ed nods, then says, “Wait, doctor. I know someone who can give me prosthetics.” _

 

_ Marcoh looks surprised. “You do?” he asks, dumbfounded. _

 

_ “Yeah. The Rockbells, family friends of ours, makes prosthetics, and they’ll be happy to give me some for a fairly low price. Though, I’m sure they know by now about the accident and are on their way.” _

 

_ “Alright. Give me the number and I’ll call them.” _

 

_ Ed obeys. _

 

_ Ed is right. Within twelve hours, Winry Rockbell is at Central Hospital and up to Ed’s room. _

 

_ She throws her arms around Ed’s neck a bit tightly, making Ed wince. “Ow! Easy there, Win,” he snaps. _

 

_ Winry pulls away, blushing slightly. “Sorry, Ed. I was so worried, though. I thought you’d die!” she exclaims, her eyes slightly watery. _

 

_ “I thought I’d die, too,” Ed mutters. “Al’s doin’ alright, came out of his coma. Mom’s still unconscious, though.” _

 

_ “I’m sorry, Ed. About your limbs, too. But don’t worry! You’ll  _ **_love_ ** _ these prosthetics. They feel like real arms and legs.  So realistic, you’ll forget they’re artificial.” _

 

_ Ed smiles as his childhood friend blathers on and on, enthusiastic about her family’s prosthetics. At least something is normal. _

 

_ The next day Ed undergoes surgery to put on the prosthetics. After, he’s sore, but happy he’s got his limbs. He can’t walk yet, though. He needs to undergo a few weeks of physical therapy. He’s brought to visit Al again. Winry is in the room with them. _

 

_ “Hey, brother,” Al says. “Aw, man, look at those prosthetics!” _

 

_ Winry beams. “I know, right? They’ll be so lightweight once Ed finishes physical therapy.” _

 

_ They all talk, about Trisha, about school, about Pinako, about everything and nothing. _

 

_ The day Ed begins physical therapy Al is moved to a normal room, right next door to Ed’s, his condition having improved. Trisha’s condition is also improving, though she has yet to awaken. _

 

_ They go and see her. Ed holds a hand. Al holds the other. Her face is busted up and hardly recognizable. Her hair is matted with dried blood. But she’s still beautiful. Because she’s their mother. _

 

_ “Mom, please wake up,” Ed says, his voice shaking slightly. “Please…” _

 

_ “Brother’s right, Mom. We need you. Dad hasn’t returned to see us in the hospital. We don’t know where he is. We really need you.” _

 

_ Ed’s free hand clenches up at the mention of Van Hohenheim. So the bastard couldn’t even be fucked to show up when his kids are injured and dismembered and his wife is in a coma, wavering between life and death? He really was a piece of work, wasn’t he? But he swallows his anger. Now’s not the time to rage against an estranged father. The time belongs to the comatose mother. _

 

_ “Mom, p-please,” Ed pleads, his voice cracking. Warm tears trickle down his face. _

 

_ She doesn’t stir, but neither does her heartbeat stop. _

 

_ A week later, Ed makes progress with his PT. But his mother stagnates. _

 

_ But a mere five days later, she awakens, to her children’s delight. _

 

_ “Mom, how do you feel?” Ed asks, his voice thick with relief. _

 

_ “I’ll be fine,” Trisha answers weakly. “You boys, how are you?” _

 

_ They catch her up to speed. _

 

_ “The Rockbells, they make some quality artificial limbs, don’t they?” Trisha chuckles. “The  Rockbells are so reliable.” _

 

_ But something seems off about Trisha; she seems as if she’s preparing to say goodbye. But why? _

 

_ Two days later, they find out. _

 

_ “I love you boys so much. And your father, oh god, I love him. Tell him next time you see him I’m sorry.” _

 

_ Ed’s eyes widen, alarm. “Mom, what’re you talkin’ about?” _

 

_ “I’m sorry, Ed, Al. The accident...it really took it out of me. I’m sorry. I love you.” _

  
  


_ When she closes her eyes, she doesn’t wake up again. Her heartbeat stops. _

* * *

 

**Three days later**

 

_ The boys leave the hospital briefly for Trisha’s funeral. It’s small but nice, filled with close friends and family, including Winry and Pinako Rockbell. _

 

_ Winry hugs Al and Ed. “I’m sorry, you guys. I know how it feels.” Six years ago, Winry’s parents were killed by a mentally ill patient. _

 

_ The boys can only nod, trying to hold back tears. By the time memorial speeches are given, the boys are crying full out. _

 

_ This is the last time Ed cries in front of people. _

 

_ Later, Ed notes with bitterness that Van Hohenheim hasn’t shown up for Trisha’s funeral. At this point, Ed despises his father. _

* * *

 

**_Present day 2016_ **

 

Ed was now good and drunk by then, having finished his story. “That bastard, Hohenheim, he couldn’t be  _ fucked  _ to show up to her fuckin’ funeral. Fuckin’ a, man. All her talk about how they loved each other, and he didn’t care enough to be there after she died,” he ranted.

 

Roy was fairly tipsy himself, though as he could hold his liquor better than Ed, he was more lucid. “I’m sorry, Ed,” was his only response. He didn’t know what to say after all that.

 

“Yeah. And then he just comes back after nowhere, waltzing back into our lives once more, expecting me to welcome him with open arms. Fuck that shit. How much do ya wanna bet he just leaves when he gets what he wants?”

 

Roy kept silent, deciding to let Ed rant about his estranged father.

 

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

 

That’s when Roy found a drunk Edward Elric on his lap, tugging on his hair and kissing him on the mouth. No, kissing wasn’t the right word. More like  _ devouring _ . Clumsy, drunk but greedy and confident hands roam Roy’s body.

 

Roy pushed Ed away reluctantly. “Ed, no, this isn’t right. You were just talking about your deadbeat dad and now you’re sucking my face? You’re drunk; this isn’t right,” Roy said, blushing deeply.

 

But Ed was having none of it. “Shut the hell up, bastard,” he growled, attacking Roy’s face once more.

 

Roy hated that he wanted this, that he loved having his ex-rival grope and make out with him. He felt himself get hard in his pants.

 

He pulled away for air. “Let’s go somewhere,” he suggested. Ed seemed pleased with the idea.

 

Roy called for a cab, knowing the both of them were too drunk to drive anywhere. The cab took them to a small, cheap motel, while Ed groped Roy in the backseat.

 

Roy barely managed to keep Ed off him long enough to walk into the hotel and check them into a room for the night. Once when they were in that hotel room, Ed was back to groping Roy, this time, clumsily trying to remove his clothes. Roy returned the favor. When they were in their underwear, Roy led Ed to the bed and pushed him down, kissing his neck, and groping his body. Ed snuck a hand down Roy’s boxers, wrapping a warm hand around his hard-on, making the older man moan and buckle.

 

“Fuck, Ed,” Roy groaned. This was everything he dreamed of. Ed’s warm body underneath him, his hand stroking Roy’s cock, kissing Roy.

 

But he when he fantasized about this, Ed was always  _ sober.  _ Not drunk and pissed at his father. Guilt stabbed at him, and his hard-on deflated.

 

“What’s wrong?” Ed slurred, trying to stroke Roy’s now flaccid dick. Roy removed Ed’s hand  and got off of him.

 

“This isn’t right, Edward. You’re trashed. I would be taking advantage of you. I can’t do this,” Roy rambled.

Ed sat up and glared. “Y-you fuckin’ bastard. Don’t cockblock me!”

 

“Look, if you still want me when you’re in the right state of mind, I’ll be there. But you’re not; not right now. I’m not taking advantage of you.”

 

Ed sulked, laying down not looking at Roy. Thirty minutes later, though, he was passed out.

  
Roy fell asleep on the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ed and Roy have to deal with the ramifications of their actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for being late. I have no idea why, but Royed is my favorite pairing to write for.

_**The next morning...** _

 

 _Ugh, what the fuck happened? My head hurts like hell. Am I hungover?_ Ed thought as he woke up, his head feeling as if it might explode.

 

"Where...where the  _hell_ am I?" Edward groaned aloud.

 

"You're awake, I see," a deep voice said.

 

Ed found himself in a motel room, wearing nothing but boxers, in a motel bed. He saw Mustang down on the floor, also only clad in his underwear. 

 

Ed looked at him, bewildered.

 

"I realize that you have many,  _many_ questions," Mustang began. "However, I imagine your hangover is killing you."

 

"That's an understatement of the fuckin' century,"  Ed grumbled. 

"Which is why I placed some water and some Tylenol on your nightstand there."

Ed looked, and saw a glass of water next to two pills.

 

"Thanks," he said begrudgingly before downing the pills. There was an awkward silence in the room before...

 

"Did we...?" Ed asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

 

"No, no," Roy said quickly, shaking his head. But he hesitated before continuing, which made Ed nervous. "But...we did come close. You were wasted and after ranting about your father, you hopped on my lap and started making out with me."

 

Ed sucked in a breath. "And...then what?"

 

"I...resisted at first, but it was hard, and I offered to take you back here, you agreed, and once in here, we did start making out and undressing each other. I stopped before anything else could occur, because I realized it wasn't right for me to take advantage of you like that. You were pissed."

 

Ed could hardly believe what he was hearing.  

 

"Oh, and Ed-you're quite the biter," Roy added, pointing to a series of hickeys littered on his neck.

 

Ed groaned loudly. "Fuuuuuuuck," he said. 

 

"Yeah," Roy sighed. 

 

"Shit," Ed suddenly said. "My phone! I need to call Al and Winry, let them know I'm alright."

 

He got out of bed and started looking for his pants. Upon finding them (and putting them back on), he searched for his iPhone 6, and then checking its battery life-15%. Ccould be better, sure, but could be worse. _It's just enough to send a text to Winry and Alphonse to let them know I'm okay,_ he thought.

He saw that his messages and voice mail were both overflowing with messages. He decided to check the texts first.

_**Winry, 10:30 PM:** Ed, where the hell are you? _

**_Al, 11:00 PM:_ ** _Brother, Winry's kinda worried. I think you oughta call her or text her or something to calm her down._

 **_Al, 11: 15 PM:_ ** _Father wants you to know he's worried, too, and wishes that you'd give him your number so he can call you._

The messages, as well as the voice mails increased in hysteria, mostly from Winry.

_**Dammit, Ed, I don't know where the hell you are, or whether you're okay or what! Don't make me worry like this! Call me! Now!** _

So he called Winry.

"Hey, Win," Ed began tentatively, waiting for the inevitable yelling.

"Ed!" Winry yelled, forcing Ed to hold the phone out from his ear. "Thank  _god_ you're okay! Do you know how worried I was? I haven't gotten any sleep all night!"

Ed winced. "Yeah, Win,  I'm so sorry I didn't call or text," he apologized.

"What were you doing all night that you couldn't text back?" she demanded. 

"I, uh, Roy Mustang invited me out for drinks, so I went and ended up getting drunk and Mustang took me to a motel for the night so I could sleep it off," he explained.

Winry sighed. "You could've told us you were going out ahead of time, at least," she said, exasperated.

"I know," Ed admitted. "I'm really, really sorry. Please tell Al, Granny, and my shit of a father that I'm okay. I'll be home soon, alright?"

"Alright. Love you. Bye."

"Love you too. Bye."

Ed hung up.

"How pissed was she?" Roy asked, somewhat amused.

"Very,"  Ed said with a scowl. "No thanks to you."

Roy held up both hands in defense. "I'm not the one who got plastered. I only had two and a half drinks, and I'm not a lightweight like you are."

Ed flipped Roy off.

 

They finished getting dressed and checked out of the sleazy motel.

"What are you gonna do 'bout your hickeys, Mustang?" Ed asked, smirking.

Now it was Roy's turn to flip Ed off.

 

* * *

 

Winry and Al were all over Ed when he was dropped off. Van Hohenheim was hanging back awkwardly.

 

"I was so worried!" Winry cried.

Ed winced at the volume of her voice. "Yeah, sorry, Win, Al. I was just too drunk to even think of texting or calling you guys."

"Ed, what're those marks on your neck?" Alphonse asked.

"...What?" Ed questioned, looking at his younger brother strangely. 

 Al touched Ed's neck. "There are dark markings on your neck. Look!" he said, before gesturing to a mirror.

Ed scowled, but turned to look in the mirror and blushed deep scarlet at what he saw: several hickeys sprinkled on both sides of his neck.

"What the actual  _hell_ , Mustang?" Ed muttered, trying to keep quiet, but apparently failing.

"Mustang?" Al questioned. "Did you and Roy...?" His voice trailed off.

"But I though you hated him!" Winry exclaimed.

"I do!" Ed shouted, feeling his temper flare. "And no, we didn't fuck."

"But clearly something happened." Al gestured to the hickeys. "What happened last night?"

Ed sighed, and explained the long story. He left out the parts about initiating the heated makeout session and being pissed when Roy stopped kissing him.

"Listen, I was drunk as shit, I woulda kissed anyone!" Ed protested when he was finished, failing to convince the two that nothing had happened.

"It's okay, Ed," Winry reassured him. "You don't need to convince us. We accept and love you no matter what gender you like."

"Dammit, it's not like that!" Ed yelled, before storming off in a rage.

 

He went to his room, slamming the door petulantly behind him, and opened his laptop, logging onto Twitter. He called Roy.

"You fucking bastard!" he hissed as soon as Roy picked up.

Roy sighed. "What'd I do this time?" 

"You. Gave. Me. Fuckin'. Hickeys," Ed seethed.

"Oh, shit," Roy said. Ed heard an audible gulp.

"Yeah, 'oh shit' is right, you fucker," Ed snapped. "My brother and childhood friend think I fucked you-I can't convince them otherwise!"

"It seems I managed to leave my mark before coming to my senses," Roy chuckled, albeit nervously.

Ed fumed and hung up.

* * *

 Ed spent the next week sulking in his room, avoiding the probing questions of Al, Winry, Granny, and the occasional sheepish curiosity of Van Hohenheim. It was surprisingly easy, because while Winry and Al pestered a lot at first, they eventually gave up, and of course Hohenheim, wanting to be on his eldest son's good side, didn't want to push his luck. Ed also avoided social media for while until it was clear that his fans would be suspicious if he stayed away for far too long.

So he started with Twitter, only to find his mentions flooded with pics.

 Pics  of his hickeys, close-up, along with tweets and messages about his dalliance with Roy Mustang. His Instagram was also bombarded with hickey pics, as well as pics of him and Roy leaving the bar. He was trending on tumblr and had to close his askbox due to the flooding of messages in his inbox.

_Shit, how was I supposed to know there were fans at that damned bar...I was drunk as shit..._

Ed felt a buzz in his pocket, indicating that his phone was ringing. It was Roy.

"What?" Ed demanded when he picked up.

"I'm going to come out," Roy said quickly.

"Um...what?" Ed asked, as Roy was speaking way too quickly.

"I'm going to come out of the closet," Roy said, slower this time. "As gay."

"Uh, congrats? I fail to see what this has to do with me, though."

"We need to go out," Roy said bluntly.

Ed choked on air. " _What?_ Are you  _serious?_ " he yelled, prompting Al to knock on the door, uncertain.

"It's fine, Al," Ed shouted to his brother. Then he turned his attention to the phone again. " _What?_ " he hissed. "You crazy?"

"We're not dating for real, obviously," Roy said, as if this were obvious. "But our fans already think we are, and this is our chance to benefit from it."

Ed shook his head. "This is...this is crazy, you know that? This'll never work."

"Oh, Ed, you and your pessimism. Obviously, it wouldn't work  _forever._ You and I both know we can't keep this charade up for years. However, for a few months, we act all couple-y and then at just the right time, we break up. While this won't stop all shippers, it'll keep the majority of them at bay."

Ed was quiet for a while. When he finally spoke, he told Roy is a low voice, " _Fine._ I'll play your stupid little fake-dating game a while. But you owe me."

"Thanks, Edward."

"Meet me at McDonald's on Monday."

"Will do. Bye, Ed."

Then Ed hung up.


End file.
